


Unspoken

by Stripe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Illustrated, Poetry, Species Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stripe/pseuds/Stripe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game is over, but it still feels like something is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my submission to Round 3 of the Homestuck Shipping Olympics, for the theme "Balance." And somehow it got sixth overall? I'm still pretty stunned!
> 
> This is, in many ways, the spiritual sequel of my Round 2 entry from last year's "Deja Vu," to the point where I even went ahead and kept the human/troll designs for the alternate John and Vriska. It was hard to let the idea go when I'd essentially written to the prompt a year before it was prompted.
> 
> This was also originally meant to be a full-blown fic, in prose, written alongside itself like some of the other entries. I'm bashful to admit that the only real reason it morphed into something resembling poetry was because I couldn't figure out how to format it properly. I'm not a poet whatsoever, and that probably shows.
> 
> But! Hopefully you enjoy this regardless! And definitely check out the other entries if you've got time; they were great.

****  


The game is over.

It’s been nearly ten years since you and your friends won,  
and now you work at a coffee shop. You have a degree,  
but it’s the only place hiring, so you make due.

It’s been nearly four sweeps since you and your friends won,  
and now you work at a desk job. You wanted to join the military,  
but Karkat and Feferi “need you here” for the rebellion, so you make due.  


  
It’s boring.  


You hate it.

But it is what it is.

When she walks in the shop you recognize her immediately,  
even without the horns.  
You chat for a bit  
and she slips you her number.

When he walks in your office you recognize him immediately,  
even without the dull buck teeth.  
You talk business  
and he gives you his trollian handle.

(she even uses the 8’s for b’s)

  
  
(ghostyTrickster)

You start talking. A lot.

She likes spiders, and movies, and roleplaying.  
She has issues with her mother.  
Sometimes she breaks 8-balls  
just for the fun of it.

He likes shitty movies, and pranks, and coding.  
His lusus always bakes him grub cake.  
Sometimes he leaves buckets out  
just for the fun of it.

She doesn’t know the name “Mindfang.”  


He doesn’t know the name “Nic Cage.”

You give it a shot anyways.

Your first official date is at a movie theater  
just down the street from where you work.  


Your first official date is on a small moon  
just a short trip from the satellite where you work.

She steals most of the popcorn.  


He greets you with a hand-buzzer.

  
She laughs at all the right parts.  


He laughs in just the right way.

  
She holds your hand.  


He holds your hand.

At the end,  
she leans in close.

At the end,  
he leans in close.  
  


The date ends with a kiss.  
It makes you nostalgic for a time  
your universe doesn’t remember.

Things move quickly from there.

You’re introduced to her tabletop roleplay friends,  
first by their name  
and then by their character.

You’re introduced as John Egbert,  
 _boyfriend._

You’re introduced to some of his co-workers,  
first by their name  
and then by their job title.  
  
You’re introduced as Vriska Serket,  
 _matesprit._

She meets some of your friends, too, but not the three that matter.  
They know you have a girlfriend,  
but you spare them the details.

You’d rather not hear Rose’s psychoanalysis,  
anyways.

He meets some of your co-workers, too, but not the eleven you're risking your life for.  
They’re busy with the revolution,  
and they've no time for your quadrants.  
  
You’d rather not hear Karkat’s criticism,  
anyways.

You try to ignore it,  
but sometimes the resemblance is a little too uncanny.

You see **her** in the way she:  
talks, exaggerating everything  
counts everything in eights  
treats spiders with care

You see **him** in the way he:  
walks, lighter than air  
laughs after he pulls a prank  
cannot stand the thought of cake

And sometimes you wonder  
what it’d have been like

To be with the girl who killed you.

To be with the boy who listened to you.

Would you have gone on that date?

  


You think  
of all the things  
you could have shown her.

You think  
of all the things  
you could have taught him.

You think  
of all the  
missed moments  
and wonder

Could you have lived with a troll?  


Could you have lived as a human?

You’ll never know.

 

 

  
_And yet._   


One day  
you’re surprised to find  
that despite everything  
you’re happy.

Sometimes,  
you wonder if you should tell her about the game you played with your friends.

And about the girl with fangs and candycorn horns,  
who just wanted to be a hero.

Sometimes,  
you wonder if you should tell him about the game you played with your friends.  
  
And about the boy with buck teeth and blue eyes,  
who was destined to be a leader.

(Sometimes,  
she wonders if she should tell you  
about the troll boy she once knew.)

(Sometimes,  
he wonders if he should tell you  
about the human girl he once knew.)

  


Things best left unsaid.


End file.
